


I Found Myself

by Tempestas_D_Uzu



Series: Introducing Me [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Male Character, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Redemption, Bucky Barnes Remembers, F/M, Family Feels, Female Tony Stark, I Found Myself by Anna Clendening, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Post-Recovery Bucky Barnes, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Quote: Who the hell is Bucky?, Self-Discovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Service Dogs, Song fic, Spin-Off, Unreliable Narrator, inspired by a song, loss of memories, mentions of abuse, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 03:51:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17276558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tempestas_D_Uzu/pseuds/Tempestas_D_Uzu
Summary: ("Who the hell is Bucky" is more fitting then ever)James Barnes wants to find out who he is, and to do that, he needs to come to terms with who he was.An 'I Am Not Nothing'-verse spin-off





	I Found Myself

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I Am Not Nothing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16287098) by [Tempestas_D_Uzu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tempestas_D_Uzu/pseuds/Tempestas_D_Uzu). 



**I Found Myself**

 

_To The Soldier –JamesBuckyJamieSoldatSargentBarnes **32557038** \- there is no sense of time when frozen, just a coldness that seeped into his bones and an emptiness that clung to his mind. There’s only the faintest awareness, shadows and foggy voices of what was going on outside of his cryo pod, there was a man who would talk to him, a man who sounded familiar, who he thinks is important but the memory escapes him._

_The Soldier doesn’t know what he feels_ should _know._

_But there’s one thing that stands out from his ruined, fragmented memories; he’s dangerous._

_He’s a danger to those outside his pod, which is why he’s frozen – he chose this, he chose something for himself for the first time in… he didn’t know._

_A long time he assumes._

 

**_I found myself in a sea of busy places, in a world of blurry faces_ **

 

Goat farming helps.

The monotonous life of tending to his goats on the borders helps him sort out his mind; he doesn’t need to hurt anything anymore, no one is making him do anything, and the goats are _simple_. The nightmares are easier to deal with when he has a purpose, and he can start to heal and figure himself out.

He’ll always be The Solder, nothing can change that, and he can no longer be _Bucky_.

So who is he?

  
(Princess Shuri suggests he just try to be _James_ for now.)

  
James is the White Wolf, the one-armed goat farmer who doesn’t have a troublesome punk to look out for, doesn’t have to worry about bills, or finding another job to pay for food for himself, his sister ( _what was her name? What kind of brother was he that he couldn’t remember his baby sister’s name?_ ), or Stevie. All he needs to think about are his goats, and himself.

  
(That doesn’t stop the faces from haunting him.)

(He remembers them all.)

 

**_I found myself, on the edge of insanity, I found, I found me_ **

 

“And this is what you wish to do, Sargent Barnes?”

James clenched his fist in his lap, head down as King T’Challa studies him, “I… I need to give them closure, bring something good from the memories…” He looks up, meeting the Wakandan King’s eyes. “I didn’t kill _your_ father, your Highness, but I did kill _others_. Their families don’t deserve this, the questions of what happened to their loved ones, of where they are. I can help _someone_ find that closure.”

“And if they blame you?”

“Then it’s nothing less than I deserve.” His hand shakes, “HYDRA may have been the ones pulling the strings, but it was still _my_ hands that killed them. To heal, so that _others_ can heal, I need to accept that.” His heart is racing, his hand that isn’t covered with the blood that he knows should be there tightens in the fabric of his pants. “Stevie keeps telling me that it wasn’t me who did all that, but it was. It was my hands that killed all those people. He doesn’t understand that I _need_ to do this. He doesn’t _understand_.”

The aborted grimace that took over the darker man’s face told James that there was much that the King was trying not to say, probably about Steve, and James couldn’t quite stop the small, bitter quirk of his lips.

Steve wasn’t the Stevie he remembered, but there was one thing that didn’t change; the punk’s ability to piss other people off.

King T’Challa sighs quietly, “And what would you have me tell Captain Rogers should he ask after you?”

“That I’m _healing_.” James says firmly, because this is _his choice_. “Nothing more. He doesn’t need to know, I don’t want him to… think he needs to save me, or whatever it is that’s been going through his head lately.”

 

_**My heart was beating, barely breathing but still alive** _

 

Returning to America with his mind his own, and without Steve is an odd feeling, but James is here for a reason, he has a mission to complete and his own anxiety and self-doubt will not stop him.

Following behind King T’Challa as he steps off the Wakandan Quinjet, James lets his eyes sweep across the landing pad, instinctively searching for threats and escape routes. The Avenger’s Compound is a weird sight for him; he remembers Steve’s stories about his new-found home, about Toni Stark, and about his team. The knowledge that Steve had been in a relationship with _Howard’s_ daughter was a shock for James, he had been under the impression that Steve had been with Agent Carter’s niece, considering the kiss they had shared, and their fight against the Stark Heiress had led James to assume that the relationship between Steve and Stark wasn’t a friendly one.

(The truth made everything _so much worse_ , and gave James too many darker thoughts about what really happened in their ‘relationship’, but… no, _Steve_ isn’t like that.

_“I can do this all day.”_

Or is he?)

But Antonia Stark was no where in sight, instead a beautiful woman in military greens stood at attention in front of him, two other women on either side of her, a stern frown on her pretty face, and a handsome man with sunglasses and a red-and-white cane just a few steps behind them.

(Once upon a time, Bucky would have flirted with the trio of lovely women, the man too if there weren’t any eyes on them, probably taken one of them home with him for the night, but… James isn’t _Bucky_ anymore.)

“Sargent Barnes,” The blond woman greets him, blue eyes studying him intently. “I’m Captain Carol Danvers. Also known as Captain Marvel, the leader of the Avengers.”

“James Barnes, Ma’am.” James stood to attention, snapping off the best military salute possible, and the sight seemed to make Captain Danvers soften towards him.

“At ease, Sargent.” She told him, “This is Jennifer Walters, the UN Lawyer assigned to the Accords.” The tall brown haired woman on her left offered him a nod, unnaturally bright green eyes sharp and intelligent. “She’ll be your liaison to the Council.”

“A pleasure, Miss Walters.”

“Likewise, Sargent Barnes.”

“Matt Murdock will your personal attorney,” The brown haired man with the sunglasses gave him a polite smile.

“I’ll be here to answer any questions you have about your deal.” Murdock told him, stepping forward to extend a hand to shake. “Don’t hesitate to ask anything.”

“Thank you.” James said, shaking the blind man’s hand.

“And Darcy here has volunteered to be your personal assistant.” Captain Danvers finishes, nodding to the dark haired woman next to her.

“Darcy Lewis, handsome.” She grins at him, “But just call me Darcy, I’m here to help you connect with the modern world. Star Wars, Rocky, Forrest Gump, I’ll make sure you know which one’s which.” Darcy leans closer to him, adjusting her thick-rimmed glasses, “ _I can show you the world_.”

The way she says it, makes James believe that it’s probably a reference. “Is that from a movie?” He asks hesitantly, and the small woman snorts ungracefully.

“Disney, Freezerburn. It’s _Disney_.”

“Walt Disney?” He tries; there’s a foggy memory of a brown haired girl with blue eyes staring at the screen in awe, they had gone to the theater together, just the two of them, a few years before he had been drafted – he had broken out their savings to take her, and had been forced to take a third job to make up the money again, but he hadn’t regretted it.

1937.

 _Rebecca_ , his sister.

(He wonders what happened to her.)

“I saw Snow White in theaters. With my little sister.”

 

**_Lost along the way I'd given up my fight_ **

 

A stipulation of James’ deal was required meetings with a UN chosen psychologist, and psychiatric care when he wasn’t helping search parties locate the bodies The Winter Soldier had disappeared for HYDRA, and he needed to receive a passing grade to be allowed back into society without a watcher.

Doctor Jericho Drumm was the psychologist chosen, and also a part-time member of the Avengers, moonlighting as Doctor Voodoo, which James could assume was the reason that he was chosen. He’d be able to subdue James if he became a threat, and his hypnosis abilities would help remove what remained of his trigger words. He was a tall man, with natural muscles and dark skin, and had a soothing, French-accented voice that didn’t bring back any bad memories for James, even if his pure white eyes could be a little eerie at times.

James had admitted so, and dragged an amused laugh out of the _Houngan_.

( _A voodoo priest_ – honestly it wasn’t that weird compared to many other people James had seen in his time staying in the Avengers Compound.)

“Have you ever given thought to a service dog?” Doctor Drumm suggests one day, “I can get you in touch with a friend of mine, he breeds and trains dogs specifically for veterans who live with PTSD.”

“I always wanted a dog.” James admits, and he remembers. “But we barely had enough money to feed ourselves, it would have been cruel to put a dog through that. Rebecca was heartbroken when she was told we couldn’t keep the strays she had found.”

The psychologist smiles, a friendly little thing that he had started doing recently, after they had become _friends_ instead of just doctor and patient. “Tell me about it?”

James chuckles as the memory races back to him, and he begins to speak.

 

**_Scattered to pieces all along the floor, within the brokenness_ **

 

“You’re getting a _puppy_?!”

Darcy is staring at the papers he was filling out, and James offers her a small smile. “Doctor Drumm suggested it.” He says quietly, “I have an appointment to go meet the trained litter on the weekend; dobermen.”

“A _big puppy_!” The PA gasps excitedly, dropping herself to sit next to him on the couch. “Do you have pictures? Let me see!” He flips the files towards her, and lets her gush. “ _Ohmigosh_ , you have to take me with you when you go to meet them! I’ve always wanted a puppy!”

“I don’t mind.” He tells her, “You can come with me if you’d like.”

Darcy beams at him.

 

**_I found something more_ **

 

“I guess this is how I die.” Darcy says blissfully, covered in a blanket of squirming, excited puppies that yip and lick at her smiling face. “Make sure to put it on my tombstone; _killed by adorableness_.”

James chuckles, eyes traveling from his companion, and towards the one puppy that hadn’t charged towards them after they had sat down on the carpet, and when the breeder had released the swarm to meet a potential partner. The sitting puppy seemed a lot calmer than its litter-mates, watching its siblings silently, but on noticing his attention, it’s stubby tail began to wag.

“Hey there, pup.” He greets, offering a hand to tempt the young dog forward, then chuckles again when a small, cold nose snuffles against his fingers and the tail continues to wag. “Don’t want to play with your siblings?”

“That’s Skip,” The breeder says in amusement as the puppy crawls into the former soldier’s lap and makes itself comfortable. “He’s the runt, but don’t let fool ya – he’s the most intelligent of the litter.”

James hums, running fingers across short, coarse fur. “Skip, huh?” He echoes, studying the runt, a smile on his face. “I bet you’re a little punk, aren’t ya pal?” The puppy chuffs, placing small paws on the man’s chest so that he can lean forward and lick happily at his chin, and James laughs, scratching at Skip’s pointed ears.

“I think he’s chosen you.”

 

_**I found myself in a sea of busy places, in a world of blurry faces** _

 

Part of discovering who he _is_ , James finds, is investigating who he _was_.

It’s on Jericho’s suggestion that he begins his search with his sister, Rebecca Barnes. He had been too cowardly, up until now, to even begin research into what had happened to his family after Bucky’s death and the creation of The Winter Soldier, she had been twelve when he had been drafted, this James could remember, and had been forced to move in with their estranged aunt when they had been separated.

What would happen if he got his hopes up, and it turns out she hadn’t survived as long as he had? Did she have a family of her own? Did she move on?

But James forges forward.

As it turns out, Rebecca _did_ survive, she was still alive and in her eighties – she had done well for herself even. Their mother’s sister, Aunt Ida, apparently had had a well-off husband when Rebecca went to live with her, and his little sister had been well-cared for. She had attended and graduated from Finch College, became a poet and author, and had eventually gone on to be a fighter for equal rights – little Rebecca, the shy girl who squeaked around strangers, had grown up to be a social warrior.

(James was sad that he had missed it.)

She had married her husband, Ronald Proctor, a discharged soldier who had been injured in Vietnam, in 1960, together they had a daughter named Winnie Georgia in 1969 who was followed by a son, James Steven, in 1974. She would have been considered too old to be married for the first time, she had probably had to deal with shunning, and James hadn’t been there to protect her.

Ronald ‘Ronnie’ Proctor had died in 1995, a seizure, leaving Rebecca a widow.

His niece had, apparently, eloped to Canada in 2006, with her long-time girlfriend, and was living in Ottawa it seemed, happily married and with a cat according to her wife’s Facebook, working as a University Professor, her wife a nurse. There wasn’t really much to find about Winnie Proctor, it seemed, according to her wife’s posts, she was a technophobe – but that could have been a joke.

His nephew and namesake, on the other hand, had seemed to live a typically, nuclear life; married in the 90s, he had two kids, Scott, born in 2000, and Kimberly, 2004. He was an engineer, working for Stark Industries, his wife a teacher. Scott Bradley was attending Midtown School of Science and Technology where he was a football player and loved all things science, and had a Youtube account where he posted theory videos about superheroes and how their powers worked – he was a Spiderman fan. Kimberly Jane was a student at St. Francis de Sales School for the Deaf, and played soccer, she had a Snapchat and an Instagram where she posted pictures of herself, her family, and her friends, and she _really_ needed better privacy settings because literally anyone could just browse through her pictures whenever they wanted.

They lived in Brooklyn.

And Rebecca lived with them.

(He felt like a stalker.)

 

_**I found myself, on the edge of insanity, I found, I found me** _

 

Skip sits calmly at his side, intelligent eyes watching as James hesitated, staring at the dark green door and the brown-brick townhouse. All he has to do is lift his fist and knock on the door; simple, easy, quick, and he would be able to see his sister and her family.

And yet he hesitates.

Sweat is gathering in his palm, his heart is racing, and his mind is fuzzy; for a moment he can’t breathe properly. What if they knew who he was, what he was? They probably wouldn’t want anything to do with an assassin who has barely aged into his thirties despite the fact that he’s supposed to be in his nineties. He’s a broken, desperate man trying to make up for all the wrongs he had committed, and most of the time he can’t even trust his own mind.

Why would they want someone like him in their lives?

A cold nose presses against his palm, a wet tongue lapping at his fingers, and James shudders as his eyes refocus. Skip chuffs at him, ears perked, and James drops down to gather his smart dog into a hug.

“Good boy, Skip.” He praises shakily, and gets a wet doggy kiss to his shaved jaw.

He could do _this_.

He _has_ to do this.

James raises his fist, and knocks on the door.

 

**_I was broken, torn apart_ **

 

Rebecca cries when she sees him; she cries, and she yells, and she curses him to high heavens, but she forgives him. His elderly baby sister gathers her young older brother into her arms, hugs him like she would her own children and grandchildren, and introduces him to her family.

His great-nephew and niece are fascinated to meet him, asking questions a mile a minute; about his dog, about his missing arm, about the War, and about the Avengers. James Proctor and his wife are a little more hesitant, they’re adults, and have probably learned more about who The Winter Soldier is than their children have – they’re afraid of him, and rightly so.

But they warm up to him – they watch him with Scott and Kimberly, they study Skip, and they talk with Rebecca, and by the end of the day, James has a standing invitation to come back anytime.

For the first time in a long time, James feels like _himself_.

 

**_Scars line my arms, on my sleeve I wore my heart_ **

 

One day, James walks into the kitchen to find someone already there.

Toni Stark stands behind the island, leaning against the kitchen counter with a mug held tightly in her small hands. Her eyes are hidden behind a pair of designer sunglasses, and her body language is almost perfectly portraying a sense of confidence, but the tightness of her shoulders and the faintest quivering of her breath gives her away.

She’s afraid of him.

“Morning, Brain-freeze.” The billionaire greets him flippantly, “Good sleep?”

James makes sure to move slowly, always staying in her line of sight without any sudden moves as he slips into a barstool. Doing this leaves him open for an attack, it limits his attacking and dodging time, and it’s done in hopes of not spooking the superhero who could probably leave him as nothing but a bloody smear if she wanted to.

(James knew Iron Man’s threat level, he knew _Toni Stark’s_ threat level – and he knows that despite what Steve may believe, if she _wanted_ him dead, he’d _be_ dead.)

“The nightmares aren’t as loud with Skip there.” He gives the dog a quick pat on the head as he moves past him and towards his food bowl.

Stark hums, then falls silent. “I wanted a dog when I was a kid.” She admits, “Something alive, and soft. But Howard hated dogs, I made Dum-E instead.”

“I…” James says quietly, hesitates, then continues. “I’m sorry, Miss Stark, for killing your parents.”

“It wasn’t you.” She replies flatly, and James flinches.

“Doesn’t matter.” He grunts, “It was _my_ hands, _my_ face.” An awkward silence falls over them, and James shifts. “I’m sorry for Siberia, too. Everything was just happening too fast, I… wasn’t thinking straight, and I hurt even more people, you included. I never wanted to hurt anyone else, but I _did_. I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t mean much now, and I don’t deserve forgiveness for what I did to you, Miss Stark, but I want to apologize, for _everything_.”

He’s not expecting forgiveness, and he’s not surprised when she doesn’t give it.

“I don’t know if you’ve been watching the news,” She says instead, “But there’s an invasion coming.” James winces and nods, and Stark continues. “The UN’s decided to recall Rogers and his misfits, have them brought back to the States because he need all hands on deck.”

“You don’t agree.” James notes, and Stark takes a long drag of her coffee.

“Doesn’t matter.” She states, “They’re coming to destroy Earth, and it just so happens that there’s people I care about on this hunk of space rock. The more people fighting the Space Grape means there’s more people between him and my people.”

“I agreed to fight.” He says, resigned but determined. “I’m going to fight to _protect_ people this time, because my family lives here too.”

Stark studies him for a moment, head tilted like she’s looking at a complicated puzzle, before she quirks her lips almost bitterly. “You’re very hard to dislike, Father Winter.”

Then, she turns on her heel, and sweeps from the room.

 

**_They remind me of what is real_ **

 

“So, you’re going back to Wakanda?”

“For now,” James grunts, zipping his duffle bag closed before looking up to meet Darcy’s green-blue eyes, Skip barking in greeting when the woman slips into the room. “Someone needs to be there to make sure the punk follows orders; I’ll be back within the month.”

The dark haired woman grins at him, “I’ll make sure to have a movie marathon ready for when you get back. Maybe I’ll introduce you to the chaotic magic that is eighties cartoons.”

“The one with space robots might get me into the mood for an alien invasion.” James teases, and Darcy snickers.

“ _Transformers_ , you’ve got good taste Terminator.”

“T-800 or T-1000?”

She grins playfully, “You’ve definitely got the bod to be Arnold Schwarzenegger in the eighties.”

“I’m flattered.” He smiles as he stands, slinging his bag across his shoulder and picking up Skip’s lead. “I’ll see you in a month, Darcy.”

“See you in a month, JB.”

 

**_No longer needing pain to feel_ **

 

“Bucky!”

Steve is beaming when James steps into the room, blue eyes bright with happiness at the sight of his fellow super-soldier, and James smiles despite the fact that he wants to wince. He’s happy to see Steve, because he was like the little brother he never had and despite what they’ve both gone through, he treasures that bond, but Steve is a reckless punk, and very selfish too – it’s always been one of Stevie’s biggest flaws.

He’s seen what people used to believe about Steve, about Captain America, and James knows it’s a lie; it might have been built onto some of Steve’s traits, but the legend of Captain America is not the person Steve is or was.

Steve is a good man, but good men can do terrible things.

James loves Steve, but he knows that he has some shit to answer for; the Steve he knew wanted to help people, and he could go about it the wrong way sometimes, but James thinks Stevie had lost sight of who he was once, and why he’s done what he’s done.

They’ve both changed, but James knows that there’s still a part of Steve that was the small skinny boy who got into a fight with Jack Peterson when he pulled Mary Sue Watson’s pigtails, still the boy who went out shining shoes to help his mother with the bills despite his health problems, he’s still the young man who wanted to help his country – even if he was too determined to be anything other than a soldier like his Da.

Steve still has a bit of Stevie the Punk in him, just like bits of Bucky bleeds over to James.

(Maybe, all he need is a little help to rediscover why he’s fighting.)

 

**_I found myself in a sea of busy places, in a world of blurry faces_ **

 

Steve is frowning, staring down into the pages of his sketchbook, and James can almost see the cloud of dark thoughts hovering over his head.

James sighs; he knows what’s bothering the blond, and he’s a little frustrated that Steve doesn’t seem able to see just why Toni Stark didn’t want anything to do with him. “Steve, if she doesn’t want to see you, then you should give her space and stop bugging her.”

“I just want everything to go back to the way things _were_.” Steve mutters, “I just want us to be _happy_ , a family again.”

“ _Stevie_ ,” James sighs again, “Things can’t go back to the way things were. Things change, _people_ change. You can’t expect them to just bend to your wishes, Miss Stark is her own person, an adult who can make her own decisions.”

(He’s not only talking about Toni Stark.)

“But what if she makes the _wrong_ decision?”

James slowly runs a hand down Skip’s spine, and frowns at his childhood friend. “Depends on what you consider wrong, punk. You can’t make her choices for her.” A third sigh, “Steve, we hurt her – physically _and_ mentally. You can’t expect her to want to resume a relationship with _that_ hanging between you... You remember Ma’s one boyfriend, tall, red hair?”

“Frank?”

“Yeah, that one.” Both he and Steve scowl at the memory of the large man who had beaten on Winifred Barnes at the slightest drop of a hat, and James can’t remember exactly what happened to the man, but he does remember giving him a taste of his own medicine. “Would you have wanted Ma to get back together with him after everything he did to her?”

“Of course not!” Steve sounds horrified at the thought, “But this is different!”

“It is,” James agrees, “But not in a good way, Steve.”

“I didn’t _beat_ Toni! I _love_ her!”

“You _did_ though Steve,” James pointed out, “Yeah, she fought back, but you still hit her, you still made her bleed. You lied to her too, you manipulated her by not telling her about Howard and his wife.”

“She was going to kill you!”

James’ eyes harden, “If she wanted me dead, do you think I’d be talking to you now? Are you even listening to what I’m _saying_?”

“Why are you siding with her, Buck?” Steve’s arms cross over his chest, and the blond frowns. “You’re _my_ friend.”

“I’m not picking sides, Steve.” James shoots back, standing up and striding towards the door. “You’re just not _listening_ \- to me, to her, to _anyone_!”

“Where are you going?!”

“I need some _space_ , Steve.”

 

**_I found myself, on the edge of insanity, I found, I found me_ **

 

“Jamie?”

He’s sitting on Rebecca’s couch, Skip at his feet as he flips through one of his sister’s novels when said sister returns home. “Sorry.” He grunts, lowering the book, and standing. “You gave me a key, and I needed space. There wasn’t anyone here when I got into town, so I let myself in.”

Rebecca raises an eyebrow, adjusting her hold on her grocery bags, then smiling when he carefully relieves her of the burden. “I don’t mind, James. But did you come all the way to Brooklyn for space?”

James shrugs, “Go big or go home?”

His sister laughs, “Did Little Miss Darcy teach you that?”

“Scotty.” He corrects, and Becca sighs at her grandson’s name and shakes her head fondly.

“That boy.”

“It’s a different generation.” James agrees, placing the plastic bags on the counter. “These used to be paper.”

“Plastic is stronger and reusable.” Rebecca shrugs, “I still prefer paper, especially with all these studies coming out about the environment. My bags were in my car though, Jem and Marlene took it today, since their van is in the shop.” She smiles slightly as she pulls a box of crackers from the bags, “Now then, Jamie, tell your sister what’s wrong.”

“Steve,” James admits, and Becca frowns faintly.

“I don’t know what to think about that man anymore.”

“Neither do I.” He sighs, “We’ve both changed, and… well, I’m trying to discover who I am now, to rejoin society, maybe make myself the life I was robbed. But Steve’s… stuck in the past.” He moves to put the cans of soup into the cupboard, “I don’t think he wants to move on sometimes. He’s had years to make himself a life, but he wasted it wanting to go back to the world we knew.”

“I watched to world change steadily over time,” Rebecca tells him, “I got to change as the world changed; but you and Steve? You suddenly found yourselves dropped into a whole new world – it’s like taking someone out of North Korea and dumping them in New York. You need time to be rehabilitated, you need to _want_ to be here.”

“I don’t think Steve wants this.”

His little sister nods, “Whereas you want another chance at life.” James hums in agreement, and Rebecca smiles. “Why don’t you stay the night, Jamie? We can make Ma’s stew for dinner and you can help Kim with her history project.”

“I’d like that.”

 

**_I found myself in a sea of busy places, in a world of blurry faces_ **

 

It goes down like this:

“Hey, J – you wanna go out for dinner with me?”

James, not surprised by Darcy’s loud entrance, looks up from his book to meet her gaze. “Where to?”

“That 60s Diner in Queens, they just finished their renovations.”

He hums, bookmarks his place, then grins. “It’s a date.”

“ _Sweet_!”

 

_**I found myself, on the edge of insanity, I found, I found me** _

 

**Years later…**

“Daddy! Daddy!”

James Lewis pulls his reading glasses from his face a leans away from his paper as little Stephanie runs into his office, dark brown curls pulled into pigtails and blue eyes shining brightly on her little face. “Hey there, Pumpkin.” He says cheerfully, scooping the five-year-old into his arm and placing her on his lap.

“Daddy, have you seen Mister Mittens?” Steph asks, curling into his stomach and looking up at him with big, watery eyes.

“Mister Mittens?” He asks seriously, then adopts a faux-stern face as Steph nods. “Can you give me a description of our missing soldier, Miss Lewis?”

The little girl straightens, lips pursing seriously at their regular 'lost things' game. “Mister Mittens is brown, he’s a teddy bear, and he’s perfect hug size.”

“And where was the last sighting?”

Stephanie goes silent for a moment, thoughtful, then brightens as she grins. “In Bec’s room!”

James chuckles, standing and tucking his daughter against his side like a football, “Then that’s where we need to start our search.” He says as Steph cheers, and sets off in an exaggerated jog, the little girl giggling with each bounce.

They reach the nursery quickly, and James peeks around the door frame, meeting his wife’s gaze and winking, before placing Steph on the ground. “Well then, Miss Lewis, is this the last place you saw Mister Mittens?”

“Yes, Sir!” She chirps, and he nods seriously.

“Should we perhaps ask the possible witness in the room if she has seen our missing Mister Mittens?” He asks, and Darcy laughs, adjusting her hold on the baby in her arms as she continues to rock.

“Mommy!” Steph gasps, “Have you seen Mister Mittens?”

Darcy smiles, tilting her head as she watches their daughter bounce impatiently, “Have you looked by the crib, Steph?”

Indeed, the missing bear is flopped ungracefully and abandoned at the foot of Bec’s crib, and Stephanie cheers at the discovery, scooping her bear into her arms and hugging it tightly to her chest. “Thanks Mommy! Thanks Daddy! You’re the bestest!” She bounces over, pressing a kiss to James’ cheek when he crouches next to her, and James smiles.

“Love you, Pumpkin.”

“Love you too, Daddy!”

 

(It may have taken awhile, and he lost a few people along the way, but he knows who he is now; he’s James Lewis, husband, historian, and father. He has a family, a wife, and two perfect children, Stephanie Grace Lewis, and Bec Harrison Lewis – they’re his world now.

It may have taken years of pain, blood, and suffering, but he’s happy, and he’s free.)

 

_**I found myself in a sea of busy places, in a world of blurry faces** _

_**I found myself, on the edge of insanity, I found, I found me** _


End file.
